


hold onto me

by Zykaben



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Post MAG 22 Colony, Season/Series 01, Sleepovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:08:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28200651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zykaben/pseuds/Zykaben
Summary: After Prentiss traps him in his flat for almost two weeks, Martin's partners decide that a sleepover is in order.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Sasha James/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker
Comments: 7
Kudos: 100
Collections: Rusty Quill Secret Santa 2020





	hold onto me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bibliocratic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bibliocratic/gifts).



> This fic is for the RQ secret santa exchange for bibliocratic!! It was so much fun to write a season 1 polycule fic, these four make me so happy. I hope you like it!
> 
> Also huge thanks to BB, K, and S for beta reading!

Martin had always had rotten luck, but the last two weeks had really gone and taken the cake. Of course he would stumble across Jane Prentiss and drop his phone. Of course she would follow him home and trap him in his flat. Of  _ course _ she’d cut the power and use his phone to text the others, telling them not to worry, not to come over, that Martin just needed some time to recover from being sick and the space to do it.

Martin would have given anything for someone to come and save him. Realistically, he was glad they hadn’t—the chances of his would-be rescuer getting hurt or  _ worse  _ were far too high—but that fantasy had haunted him for those twelve days.

In the end, no one came for him. He wasn’t sure if that was good luck or bad luck. He didn’t want to know either way.

The others had believed him, at least. He’d known Tim and Sasha would, but Jon had always been skeptical of the supernatural. And sure, Jon had warmed up considerably to Martin and everyone else after the four of them started to… become romantically involved with one another (Jon’s words, not Martin’s) a few weeks ago. Even still, something in Martin had been convinced that Jon would scoff and tell him to grow up. That he didn’t have time for fanciful nightmares when there was work to be done.

Jon hadn’t done that, though. He’d sat quietly and listened, holding Martin’s hand on top of the desk as Martin rambled into the tape recorder. It hadn’t been nice to relive his harrowing two week encounter with Prentiss, not by a long shot, but Jon had made it as comfortable as he could have. That meant the world to Martin.

Tim and Sasha had provided their own forms of comfort while Martin was giving his statement. Sasha’s hand had rested on his shoulder, squeezing when Martin recounted the days he’d spent terrified and alone. The pressure had been nice, helping to keep Martin in the archives instead of back in his flat. Tim hadn’t been able to sit still, pacing and keeping watch of the door in between worried glances at Martin. It felt protective in a way Martin was still getting used to.

Even after Martin had finished giving his statement, none of them pulled away. If anything, they all seemed to hover closer, almost cutting one another off with questions about Martin’s wellbeing and what he wanted. Each and every one of them offered to let him stay with them in their own homes before Martin even told them he was terrified of returning to his own flat. It was so new, being cared for like that, and it had taken every scrap of willpower Martin had to stop himself from bawling right there in front of all of them.

In the end, Martin had been set up in document storage for the foreseeable future. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be around his partners—god knows he did more than anything else—it was just that, well… Prentiss had already attacked him once. There was nothing stopping her from going after him  _ again, _ only this time he’d be dragging someone he cared about into the whole mess, too. Martin just couldn’t  _ do _ that. Not to mention document storage seemed to be  _ far _ better equipped for keeping worms out. Knowing that it would be nigh impossible for Prentiss to get in did wonders for Martin’s peace of mind.

So there he was, sitting on the edge of the newly-made cot, somehow jittery and tired at the same time. The others had decided to clear out for a bit, which only made sense. It was still the middle of the work day and Jon had gone to talk to Elias about added security and really, having some space to decompress after two weeks of torment wasn’t a bad thing. Even if it also felt intensely lonely.

Martin had been alone and afraid for so long. He could bear it for a little while longer.

He took a deep breath in. Everything was fine. It was fine—

A heavy knock rang through the air and Martin damn near jumped off of the cot. His heart pounded against his ribcage, his stomach flipped, and he braced himself for the smell of rot and decay as he looked up at the door, sick with dread at the thought of seeing the pockmarked skin of—

It wasn’t her.

It was Tim’s smiling face that he saw, the man beaming at him through the window on the door. Martin’s breath rushed out all at once, his heart still fluttering even as the tightness in his chest drained away. Of course it wasn’t Prentiss. Why would it be? Jon had promised that Martin would be safe here. He just had to work on believing it now.

Martin drudged up the best smile he could as he waved at Tim, though he was sure it still came out shaky and hollow. Tim didn’t seem to mind though, a grin breaking out on his face as he nodded and opened the door.

Martin wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but it hadn’t been for Tim, Jon,  _ and _ Sasha to come barreling into the room, each with their arms full of boxes and bags. Jon in particular seemed to be struggling with what he was carrying. Martin didn’t even realize he’d stood up to help him until he was taking something—a blanket?—from him.

Jon let out a small sigh of relief. “Ah, thank you, Martin. That was quite heavy.”

“O-of course,” Martin stammered back. It was definitely a blanket, thick and hefty and sinfully soft. “Um. Can I—what is this for? And why do you have so many blankets and pillows?”

Jon opened his mouth, then promptly closed it and ducked his head. He mumbled something that Martin couldn’t make out.

“It’s a sleepover,” Sasha said, letting the bag she was carrying drop gently against the floor. She knelt down and started unzipping it. “We’re all staying the night with you.”

“It was Jon’s idea,” Tim chirped. His arms were laden with grocery bags, placing some of them on the dingy little table that was pressed against the wall. He quickly began to pull all manner of snacks from them. “Me and Sasha loved it, obviously. What better way to settle into a new place than with the people you’re dating?”

Martin’s chest swelled, his throat burning as he choked down tears. “But it’s, it’s not even—isn’t it too early? To sleep?”

Tim laughed. “Oh, but that’s half the fun, Marto!”

“Besides,” Sasha said, voice lilting as though she were about to share a secret, “Jon’s already given everyone in the archives the rest of the day off. Don’t really have anything else to do besides make sure our boyfriend is alright.”

Reeling, Martin turned to stare at Jon. Jon was hunched over like he was trying to cover his ears with his shoulders.

“It’s only—well, it wouldn’t have been—I mean—” Jon cleared his throat. “I—we didn’t want you to… to feel alone, o-or scared. To just give you something nice after all of…  _ that.” _ Jon looked up at him, eyes plaintive. “It, it  _ is _ nice, right?”

Martin didn’t even bother to stop himself from throwing his arms around Jon and squeezing him hard enough to make Jon squeak.

He could feel Jon laugh more than he could hear it. “Good idea then?”

“The  _ best,” _ Martin whispered, voice thick. He took in a deep, shaky breath before pulling back, just a bit. Jon huffed at the loss of contact, but he was smiling, nervous and content all at once. Martin ached to kiss him. Then remembered he could, he was actually  _ allowed _ to do that, and pecked Jon’s cheek. “Thank you.”

Jon’s face flushed dark as he ducked his head again, but his smile was still in place as he mumbled out a hasty “of course” and quickly walked over to join Tim as he spread food out across the table.

Martin would  _ never _ get tired of flustering Jon with basic affection.

He only jumped slightly when Sasha bumped her shoulder against his a moment later. “Cute,” she whispered, eyes shining.

Martin knocked her gently back. “Yeah, he is.”

Sasha hummed. “Yes, but I was talking about  _ both _ of you, Mr. Blackwood.”

Heat filled his cheeks and Martin just  _ knew _ his whole face had gone bright red. “W-well, um. Thank you. You’re also cute. Just, um, in general. Miss James.”

“Flatterer. Wanna help me with the air mattresses?”

“S-sure! Mattresses?”

“Now Martin, you know that I am  _ very _ clever,” Sasha drawled, “and so, when Jon said that there was only the one cot he kept here, I thought ‘oh, if we  _ all _ want to have a sleepover, we’re going to need something other than a dingy little cot to lie on.’ And it just so happens that Tim and I each happen to own an air mattress. And since lying down and cuddling on an actual mattress is infinitely preferable to doing the same on the floor, well…”

As she spoke, Sasha unzipped her bag and took out the air mattresses in question. Martin unrolled them across the floor as Sasha fiddled with the electric air pump.

“I’m glad you thought of it,” Martin said. “I don’t want to think of how awful my back would have felt after sleeping on the floor.”

Sasha smiled crookedly at him as she hooked the pump up to the first mattress and turned it on. “Like we’d ever do anything less for you.”

She said it so casually, like it wasn’t a big deal. Like Martin just… deserved having her and Tim and Jon going out of their way to do nice things for him. Like she could never imagine a time when that  _ wouldn’t _ be the case.

Martin swallowed. “Still. Thank you.”

Something about his voice must have given him away, because Sasha’s face softened immediately. “Of course.” When she held out her hand, Martin gladly took it and wove their fingers together. It wasn’t the most romantic thing in the world, holding hands as the air pump roared and filled the mattress, but there was something about the mundanity of it that filled Martin with an emotion that he couldn’t quite identify.

By the time they moved the pump to start filling the second mattress, Tim was closing the short distance between them, Jon only half a step behind him. Tim was holding a cheap, plastic margarita glass in one hand, the thing filled with a translucent amber liquid. Jon was carrying a bag of Martin’s favorite crisps.

“And here you are, good sir,” Tim said in the fakest, poshest voice possible. “Your drink. On the house.” He finished with a deep bow and lopsided smile, holding the drink out for Martin. Jon snorted at the display and Sasha’s eyeroll was practically audible.

Martin could only take the drink with a delighted laugh. “Why  _ thank you, _ good sir. That is very kind of you.”

Tim just shot him a cheeky wink.

Martin took a tentative sip, expecting the bitter, bubbling taste of beer on his tongue. It wasn’t. Instead, it was sweet and flat and sticky. Martin took another gulp of it before looking up at Tim. “Apple juice?”

Tim just grinned at him. “You put enough sugar in your tea to kill a horse and don’t like alcohol. Figured you’d like this more than whatever wine I could buy.” The easy smile on Tim’s face grew a bit frayed around the edges as he added, “Besides, alcohol messes with your sleep. And you need as good a rest as you can get.”

Martin had to close. It was like he had been filled to the brim, fit to burst and moments away from overflowing. It was overwhelming, threatening to drown him in the storm of emotions that surged through him. What was he supposed to  _ do _ with this?

Sasha squeezed his hand. Martin opened his eyes and squeezed back.

Tim looked less cocksure, now. A bit more concerned and a lot more sincere. “Too much?”

“No, no,” Martin assured him. “Just… just a lot? It’s… it’s been…”

“A lot?” Sasha suggested. Her words could have almost been teasing, if not for how soft she was speaking.

Martin huffed out something that was almost a laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s a lot.”

Tim just nodded. “Yeah, that’s fair. More than.” 

Jon was fidgeting at Tim’s side now, still holding the bag of crisps. He opened his mouth before closing it again. Then, “I-I’m glad you’re okay. We all are.”

Martin took in a deep breath. “I am, too.”

There was a moment of quiet that followed, a lull that hung between them. It wasn’t quite peaceful—Martin was far too anxious to call it that—but it was still warm and comforting. Martin wanted to smother himself in it.

Martin let it stretch for a bit longer before finishing the rest of his juice. That seemed to spur Jon into action and handed Martin the crisps. Martin gladly took them.

“So. What’s the plan now?”

Sasha smiled at him. “Now we eat some food, drink some juice, and then we can get started on the blanket fort.”

Martin blinked at her. “Blanket fort?”

“We brought all these blankets for a reason, Martin. We’re  _ going _ to use them.”

Martin nodded his agreement through his laughter. No one commented on the tears gathering at the corners of his eyes, but that didn’t stop them all from hugging him.

* * *

By the time they got everything set up the way they wanted it, Martin felt wonderfully giddy despite his limbs weighing him down as though they were made of lead. They’d used the thinner blankets to create a canopy above them, held aloft by filing cabinets and the backs of chairs. They’d even dragged the table over to serve as an anchor point, the blanket on it held in place by a box brimming with documents. The whole thing looked like the blanket fort from Martin’s childhood fantasies.

They’d only had enough blankets to fully fit one air mattress into the fort, but they made up for it by piling it high with pillows and squeezing in as close as they possibly could. Tim was pressed against Martin’s back, his arm draped over Martin’s waist and holding him close, their legs tangled together. Sasha had her head tucked under Martin’s chin, her hair tickling at the skin of his neck in a way that made the whole thing feel more real. Jon was curled up on top of Martin, almost like a cat. At any other time, Martin may not have liked feeling so closed in and warm, but now? After Prentiss? He couldn’t imagine a single thing he would have wanted more.

“Comfy?” Tim asked, voice feather-soft.

“Yeah,” Martin whispered back. “I feel… safe. For the first time in a while.”

He felt lips press against the nape of his neck. “Good.”

“We—we missed you,” Jon said, like he was confessing some grand secret. “Even when we thought you were sick, we missed you. We were planning on visiting if you didn’t feel better soon.”

Martin swallowed thickly. “I… I’m glad you didn’t. I don’t want to think about what she would have done to you.”

Sasha pulled back just enough to look Martin in the eye then leaned in to gently kiss him. “We could have taken her.”

_ That _ set everyone off, all of them giggling and jostling into each other.

When they settled again, Martin’s exhaustion finally seemed to have caught up to him, weighing heavily on his eyelids. He let them fall shut.

Like this, he could hear everyone breathing, could feel where he was pressed up against everyone else.

For the first time in twelve nights, he fell asleep unafraid and filled with hope.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please be sure to kudo, bookmark, and leave a comment if you enjoyed this fic!


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